A Guardian's Love

by Stein Willard

  < Oh, Paloma ...>

  Fresh tears ran down her cheeks when after a minute there was no reply. She felt a soft presence in her mind and sat up, startling James.

 

 

  At the sound of Tahlia’s voice, Inger almost cried. As much as she loved her mother, she was disappointed that it wasn’t Paloma.

 

 

 

  There was a long silence.

 

 

  This time she heard Tahlia sigh.

 

  She swung her feet off the bed and before James could say anything, she held her hand up. “My mother is coming to fetch me soon. She will take me to go see Paloma.”

  James had a quizzical look on his face. “But she’s in Romania. Are you sure she said she’ll be here soon?”

  The shadows in the room shifted and Tahlia materialized. Jemima stepped out of the shadows behind Tahlia and gently gathered Inger in her arms. Her blue eyes were somber as they searched hers, before they came to rest on her father.

  “We will be gone a few weeks at the most, Dad. Will you be able to make arrangements at the university for Inger?”

  James nodded, still stunned at their sudden appearance. “Do you mean to tell me you came all the way from Romania?”

  Jemima nodded.

  “But it’s a few hours’ flight from here?”

  Tahlia shrugged nonchalantly and smiled weakly. “You know … vampires.”

  James pulled a face. “I sometimes forget. Please send my regards to Paloma and the others.”

  “Will do, Daddy.” With that said, Jemima walked to the door. “It will take us a few hours to get there though since we can’t teleport with Inger.”

  James nodded again and came to his feet. “Whatever you do, be safe.”

  They raced through the house to the elevator and once they were on the first floor, Tahlia shrouded them all under a cloaking spell, allowing them to use preternatural speed. The blurriness of the landscape passing made Inger dizzy and she closed her eyes.

  She must’ve dozed off because when she opened her eyes, they were standing in a big, opulently decorated lobby. Still in Jemima’s arms, she stared at the medieval paintings and tapestries that lined the walls. The room was well lit with numerous candles that basked the room in a soft yellow light. Thick Persian carpets absorbed the sound of their footsteps as they briskly walked past a huge spiraling staircase to a closed door a few meters away.

  The door swung open, and Jemima easily carried her down a long flight of stairs that led to a huge cave-like room. Inger recognized Pierre and Jonas, but her entire focus was on the woman who leaned over a giant rock slab centered in the room. Hundreds of flickering candles cast light on the still frame lying on the slab.

 

  Chapter 19

  Jemima carefully placed Inger on her feet and held her steady until she was sure that she could stand on her own without swaying. The woman at the slab turned, and Inger looked into Genevieve’s concerned green eyes. They quickly flicked towards Tahlia, who was standing behind her, and Inger read the reproach in them. She didn’t see Tahlia’s reaction because her eyes were focused on the body lying very still on the slab.

  “Is that…Is that her?” She jumped slightly when her voice bounced off the cave walls.

  “Yes, but remember, I told you that she looks bad,” Tahlia said.

  Inger took a step forward. Paloma was lying so still that she wondered if she were alive. A thin blood-stained sheet covered her naked body. When Inger came to stand next to her, she gasped and quickly turned away to compose herself. She wasn’t there to cry because crying would not help.

  Paloma’s injuries were bad. It was nearly impossible to recognize her. Inger swayed slightly, but when Tahlia stepped closer, Inger held up her hand and turned back to look at Paloma. She was shocked to find her lover’s eyes open, a steely look in them.

  “What are you doing here, Inger? You should leave now.” For somebody who was so torn up, Paloma’s voice still held authority. But Inger hadn’t come all this way, braving nausea and pain, to be sent away so easily.

  “I came because you needed me,” she said in a broken whisper. “And because I needed to see you.” It hurt to see her beautiful lover like this. Deep, oozing gashes marred her face and blood stained the slab on which she lay. She reached out a shaky hand and lifted the sheet. She quickly closed her eyes at the raw wounds she saw. The lacerations were so deep that she could see to the bone. Oh, Paloma!

  “You should not be here. Your parents must take you away from here now.” Even as Paloma uttered those harsh words, Inger heard the underlying sorrow in the husky voice.

  She reached out and touched her lover’s uninjured cheek. “I love you, Paloma, and my place is next to you.” Inger swallowed hard. “How can you expect me not to be with my bonded mate? Being apart from you is torture.”

  Paloma turned her head away, but not before Inger saw the blood red tear escape the corner of her eye. “I can die knowing that you are far away from me. Having you here makes me fear death. I do not want to leave you.”

  She leaned closer and turned the scarred face towards her. The silver eyes were so sad that she felt her own eyes well up with tears. Fearlessly, she lowered her lips to the bloodstained lips and brushed them gently with hers.

  “I love you with all my heart, Vampire. I would rather be here, knowing I would be with you if something goes wrong.”

  Inger smiled at the surprise on Paloma’s face. “If?”

  “Yes, sweetie, if. We will talk later about how you got yourself all messed up, but only when you are healed and back on your feet.” Inger turned to the other vampires who were shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation. “What more can be done?”

  She witnessed the proud smiles on Tahlia and Jemima’s faces at her bossy tone. Even somber Jonas was grinning openly as he looked at Pierre and Genevieve.

  “I think you got more reaction out of her in one minute than we have over the past four days,” Genevieve said.

  “Four days?”

  “Yes, my love. You have been under for four days, too,” Jemima said gently.

  Inger shook her head and turned back to look at Paloma.

  “Do you mean to tell me that she’s been courting death for four days? Shame on you, Paloma,” she said staring into the shimmering silver eyes. Without looking up, she said to the others, “I will need a bed brought in here so that I can be nearby to curb this blatant laziness.” She looked deeply into the glowing silver gaze. “You’re not going to die … not on my watch, you won’t. You’ve promised me forever, and I won’t settle for less.”

  A soft groan sounded from Paloma. “Whose idea was it to bring her here? How did you gain entrance to the village anyway?”

  Inger smiled smugly. “My mother is quite powerful, silly. She knows people, who know people, who could arrange permission for me to enter the village.” She turned to Tahlia with a frown, lowering her voice. “What village is she talking about? Or is she delirious?”

  Jemima shook her head. “You were asleep when we arrived, but it’s a story for another day.”

  †

  The earth pulsed as Paloma gathered her strength and rose. It was still early and the sun hadn’t completely set yet, but she wanted to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Since Inger’s arrival a week ago, she had risen every night with the fear that her injuries had befuddled her brain and that it had conjured up Inger’s presence here at the castle. But every time for the past six nights, such as
now, she had found the brunette lounging on the big four-poster bed with the drapes pulled away, anxiously waiting for her to surface. Inger impatiently gestured with a flick of her hand, and Paloma smiled.

  Inger wanted her to clean up and get out of the soiled clothing. The earth here at the castle was the original rich dark earth that Lecrac himself had shipped from the unpolluted depths of the Carpathian Mountains. The rich soil in the mountains and its surrounding area had a wealth of healing properties, which were, in fact, the lifeblood of their race. However, being a typical human, Inger simply saw it as dirt. Dirt. The others would have a fit if they heard it referred to as such.

  “You’re up early again, love. You must be getting stronger.”

  With an economical flick of her hand, Paloma was cleaned and dressed. While at the village, they all reverted to wearing medieval clothing. The tight-fitting black pants, white linen shirt, and black leather vest she now sported met with Inger’s approval, judging from the appreciative look that came into the blue eyes.

  “The daylight serum weakened my system slightly, thus delaying my healing process, but I am getting stronger every day.” Thanks to Tahlia and Inger, Paloma mused. The past week must’ve been just as tough for Jemima as it had been for Inger. Repeatedly, Tahlia had placed herself at risk by drinking from her until Paloma was almost on the brink of death and then giving her a full blood transfusion. They all were surprised to find that Tahlia was immune to the poison, her body simply expelling it by vomiting. Nobody verbalized it, but after this discovery, they all began to speculate about how many of Tahlia’s powers were still untapped.

  In the end, Paloma had lived solely off Tahlia’s blood. Inger, on the other hand, kept pushing her to get well soon, rewarding her with the most tantalizing prizes. The first time she managed to get out of bed unaided, Inger had given her an impromptu striptease. This had made all the blood they had painstakingly replaced, rush to one particular destination. A worried Tahlia, who’d remotely been monitoring Paloma's vitals, appeared in their chamber, only to quickly avert her eyes before stomping out of the chamber. After that incident and a stern chiding from Tahlia, Inger had kept her rewards to deep sensual kisses, which in fact caused the same reaction as the striptease. In the end, Tahlia turned a blind eye, as she noticed the rapid improvements to Paloma’s health under Inger's distracting supervision.

  “Do you need blood?”

  Jerked out of her reverie by the straight-forward question, Paloma blinked a few times. “Why do you ask?

  “Fresh human blood also speeds up the healing process … or so I’ve heard.”

  Paloma came to sit on the bed. “Are you offering?”

  “Yes.” The word was uttered softly.

  Paloma leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on Inger’s cheek. Inger smelled nice—warm and alive. The beast inside reared its head and sniffed the air. Yes, blood, warm, and thick, was coursing through her lover’s veins. She pulled back and leaned back against the headboard. Her eyes scanned over the room.

  The healing chamber had undergone a huge transformation. Before Inger’s arrival, it was simply an underground dig with a flat rock in the center that served as a table. It now had a big four-poster bed, thick carpets on the floor, and lanterns and candles in almost every corner of the room. It looked homey to say the least. She felt Inger moving next to her and when she turned, she saw the worried look in the blue eyes.

  “I appreciate your offer, my love, but I do not like you in the role of a blood cow.” She lifted a finger and traced the shapely mouth. “I will only ask and take from you in the case of an emergency.”

  She saw the tender look that crossed Inger’s beautiful features. “But it is an emergency,” she said in a sultry voice.

  Raising her brows, Paloma searched the blue eyes, which were beginning to smolder the longer she stared into them. “What do you mean?”

  Inger sat back, took hold of her t-shirt, and pulled it over her head. Paloma gasped when her luscious naked breasts bounced free, the dark large nipples pointed in her direction, as if they were begging for her mouth.

  “I have an emergency.”

  Inger reached out and cradled one of her own breasts, unintentionally drawing attention to the white surgical patch on her chest. As much as she wanted to pounce on her, the sight of patch made Paloma slowly shake her head.

  “But we are both injured, my love.” Paloma protested lamely, her eyes mesmerized by the slow erotic movements of Inger’s hand cupping her breast gently before her thumb and forefinger moved upward to squeeze a ripe dark-tipped nipple.

  “Do you want me to put my t-shirt back on?”

  There was a long silence. Paloma reluctantly shook her head. She was being manipulated, and she knew it. Being aware of how closely her hunger and desire ran, she knew that Inger was trying to trick her into feeding. She never thought of Inger as a food source and never would, but the offer of fresh young blood—the blood of her lover—was too tempting to turn down. Inger’s blood was intoxicating. After the past few days of surviving on Tahlia’s potent life-saving blood, she was excited by Inger’s offer.

  “I should say ‘yes,’ but I cannot.” She reached out and her large hand cupped Inger’s smooth cheek. “Take off your trousers…but slowly.” Paloma’s voice had deepened with desire as her eyes raked down Inger’s firm body. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  Inger giggled as she moved from the bed to stand before Paloma. “Yes, but you can show me again. Now, how about some music for my little show? Maybe you can hum something.”

  †

  Outside the chamber, Tahlia turned hot eyes on Jemima. They were about to pay a visit to Inger when a sudden heat wave rushed through both their minds. Jemima’s lips formed a shocked ‘O’ before she took a hasty step backwards.

  “I guess we will have to revert to plan B.”

  “A walk in the mountains it is then,” Tahlia said with a twinkle in her eyes. It made her look so young and carefree that Jemima only stared. “I know of a few unpopulated caves. We could test and see how soundproof they really are.”

  Blushing, Jemima pushed past Tahlia. “Well, what are you waiting for? A written invitation perhaps?”

  She saw Tahlia make a lunge for her and dissolved quickly, leaving Tahlia grabbing air. Shaking her head, Tahlia followed the teasing giggle that led her out of the castle and towards the ice-capped peaks of the formidable Carpathian range.

  Epilogue

  Fifteen year old Luisa Gonzales stopped and looked over her shoulder. There it was again, a soft pulsing in the air. She wasn’t afraid of walking alone at night, especially not in the Bronx. Her brother was the leader of a feared ex-con gang and the whole borough knew her. Nobody would be so stupid as to try to hurt her. But whoever or whatever was on her trail was a different story. It felt much more dangerous and powerful than even Carlito. She stopped under a streetlight and turned to survey the area. Silence greeted her, but the evil presence was becoming more ominous as it drew closer.

  She turned on her heel, and, pressing the comic book tighter to her chest, ran as fast as she could. The house wasn’t far from here; just one more block and she’d be safe. As if from nowhere a tall, dark figure stepped out of the shadows, beckoning her to him. Luisa didn’t know why, but her legs felt like they had their own mind. She stopped, then felt herself walking toward him, like a puppet on a string, her eyes riveted on his face. He touched her cheek gently before pulling her to him.

  The shadow play against the wall showed a couple in a macabre embrace. The girl’s mouth was slightly open as she gasped for air, while the vampire drank his fill. Her heartbeat grew fainter and fainter, stuttered, and—just before it came to a final stop—he pulled away and growled in satisfaction.

  He threw his head back to allow the warm blood to trickle down his throat and closed his eyes tightly, savoring the moment. This was his addiction—young, virgin blood.

  Drunk on the potent innocent blood, he tossed the lifeless
body away from him. With a fancy back-step and a skip, he melted into the shadows. It is great to be alive. With bright eyes, he surveyed the world around him. How different it was from the Old World. He wondered if he’d ever be able to adapt to the Old World when he left here again. If he ever left. His thoughts went back to the reason he was here. His informant said he’d followed her here—to New York, the insomniac city with an abundance of food. He was going to like it here.

  Whistling a cheery tune, he dissolved into fine mist.

  About the Author

  Stein Willard

  Born and bred in Windhoek, Namibia, Stein has considerable experience in the media field. She has worked as a journalist, TV producer, and PR consultant before starting her own small media production company.

  The thirty five year old Stein started writing at the age of thirteen after feeling cheated by the ending of a novel she was reading. She took the novel and rewrote it from the ending back to the front, adding 200 more pages to it. Since then she's only written in her native language, Afrikaans, a derivation of the Dutch language.

  She decided to experiment in 2007 by writing a few short stories in English, which since has been kept password-protected on her hard drive never to see the light of day. By pure accident, she came across platforms on the internet to publish her work and was encouraged by a friend to try and post some of her stories.

  Stein still resides in Windhoek.

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